


Punch Drunk

by Kearatheshadow



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Martial Arts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3226385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kearatheshadow/pseuds/Kearatheshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was for Charlie, and he would be a good father— no matter how gorgeous the instructor was, he wouldn’t ruin this for his daughter, who so obviously loved this studio already. Because with his track record with dates, he would ruin it somehow.</p>
<p>(Jean’s a single father with a mixed daughter that wants to fight bad guys, and Mikasa's the Martial Art’s instructor that he falls for.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punch Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Jeankasa Secret Santa exchange. It was very fun to write!

“Soccer?”

Charlie didn’t even look up from her task of wrestling a dress onto the toy robot to acknowledge her father, only giving a firm shake of her head.

“Girl Scouts?” Jean rubbed his eyes, slowly scrolling through the list of suburban mother approved sports and hobbies that he got from Connie.

Jean imagined that most children would be itching to do _everything_ , but Charlie, like her father, enjoyed school and science fiction books where adulthood isn’t real and monsters eat bad people.

There was nothing wrong with that, and Jean would happily spend the rest of this days taking care of his daughter, but if he got one more call from his mother about “little Charlotte” expanding her horizons and “my boy going out and actually getting a life,” he might just move to Canada.

So the search for childhood hobbies began.

“Ballet?” _Please say no that’s so expensive._

Another firm head shake as the stylish robot was balanced on top of the tower of legos Jean would no doubt trip over next week.

“What about basketball? That sounds fun.”

She seemed to consider it for a moment before giving a pouting “nuh uh.”

Jean clicked over to the third page. “Acting? Like being in plays?”

Charlie gave a little huff and stood up to investigate her father’s computer. “Timmy says that his parents make him do this weird play at his church every christmas and thats it’s _awful_.”

“Maybe you’ll like it, and not every play is about Christmas honey.” _Besides the fact my family is Jewish._

Charlie stood on her tip toes to see over the desk and Jean helpfully brought the laptop closer for her inspection. Charlie squinted, and Jean made a mental note to get her eyes checked and hope that she didn’t get his genetics for eyesight. He’s had glasses since he was nine.

She pointed triumphantly at the screen, wobbling a little on her toes. “That one!”

“Martial Arts?” Jean squinted at the screen himself, reading over the synopsis. There was a studio within 20 minutes of his house. “Are you sure?”

Charlie raised her chin and beamed up at her father, curly dark hair falling into her face. “I want to learn how to fight bad guys.”

_Oh no_. “It’s going to take a lot of work.”

The girl was determined to thwart her father at every turn. “Every good guys needs to train _a lot_ to be the best. _Everyone_ knows that. I bet they train for _days_.”

Jean looked at her helplessly and leaned down, elbows resting on his knees. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

She pouted at him, repeatedly saying “pleeeeeease,” until Jean sighed and gave in. “I’ll give them a call and we can visit them tomorrow, okay?”

The hug he got in response almost made it worth it.

—————

A class was in session when they got there the next day after school, pulling into the parking lot of a tiny outdoor mall.

When Jean opened the door, loud music welcomed him and to his right, pre-teens on a foam mat were holding up small pads and beaconing their partners to hit it. A large mirror made up one wall, and the opposite side was a row of chairs with a varied number of bored parents. In front of him, shoes were scattered on the floor and in cubbies, leading to a meticulously organized front desk.

The blonde man at the desk smiled and waved at him to come closer, and Jean tugged on Charlie’s hand to get her attention, as she was entirely focused on the students.

 “Are you here with an appointment or did you happen to walk in and would like a little more information?” He asked Jean over the music.

“Uh, I believe I have an appointment under “Kirschstein”.”

 “Oh! Yes, you’re right on time then Mr. Kirschstein,” He held out his hand for Jean. “Armin Arlert. I’m the one that you talked to last night.” He leaned over the desk and smiled down at Charlie. “And this must be your daughter.”

Experience told Jean to watch his face carefully, wondering if the man would say any more, even a passing comment on, “she looks just like you,” to the pasty white father and his brown daughter. He tensed in anticipation, but Armin passed the test.

Charlie bounded forward, a bright smile and all the shameless enthusiasm a seven year old can produce, even to a stranger. “I’m Charlie!”

Seeing as the man was already more accepting than most of Jean’s neighbors, Jean reverted his gaze from Armin to Charlie as she stuck her hand up awkwardly over the desk. “Pleased to meet you Mr. Arlert.”  

Armin shook her hand despite the angle, smiling gently and Jean let go of the tension curling in his chest. “It’s nice to meet you too Miss Charlie. I’m glad you want to try Martial Arts here. When we get a spare moment, I’ll introduce you to your instructors.”

The music was paused, the chattering of kids suddenly amplified and Armin was cut off by a second man, taller and darker than the first, in a pitch black uniform.  “Gather ‘round everybody. We’ll finish working on eye strikes next week. I want to get started on getting out of chokes.” He effortlessly got the kids attention (and Jean’s, because _chokeholds and teenagers shouldn’t mix_ ), calling one forward with a laugh to have them demonstrate something.

On the other side of the room, the back door opened and Jean did a double take, glancing at the woman from out of the corner of his eye. He shouldn’t stare, it was really rude, but even just a few glances told him that she was absolutely gorgeous.  

In front of him, Armin smiled and waved the woman over. “This is Miss Mikasa Ackerman, the instructor that will see which of our classes is right for Charlie and where to begin.”

When she got close enough, Jean turned to face her, reminding himself that 1) he was in fact a responsible adult, 2) it was _very_ inappropriate to like her and 3) she could very likely kill him.

He still felt himself blush when she looked at him.

 Armin gestured between them: “Mikasa, this is Mr. Jean Kirschstein, with his daughter Charlie.”

They exchanged pleasantries, Charlie torn between remembering her manners and watching the older students with an expression bordering on awe. Jean probably was wearing the same expression, hanging onto nearly every word she said.

_Mikasa._

 Jean forced himself to focus as they walked around the center floor, towards the back room for quiet as the music started back up. This was for Charlie, and he would be a good father— no matter how gorgeous the instructor was, he wouldn’t ruin this for his daughter, who so obviously loved this studio already. Because with his track record with dates, he _would_ ruin it somehow.

He barely knew anything about her, but he wanted to learn.

 Charlie passed the little physical tests with flying colors, Mikasa praising her warmly and genuinely. Jean sat in a chair in the little room, occasionally answering questions and cheering for Charlie when she turned towards him with a huge grin, _proud_ of herself.  

 When that happened, Mikasa would follow Charlie’s line of sight, meeting Jean’s eyes for a split second, a small contagious smile causing Jean’s face to split into a even bigger grin. He imagined sparks going off between them, little fireworks in his brain destroying most rational thought.

When they said goodbye, Jean couldn’t help but thank her over and over, even though he knew perfectly well that she was just being overly nice to get customers for her job. She didn’t owe him or even his daughter anything, he was just another parent.

Even with this heavy knowledge keeping his head out of the clouds, he still found himself staying for every one of Charlie’s classes. One hour, twice a week, it became routine to sit in the row with the other parents. After the class it was a whirlwind of jackets and missing socks and stray water bottles, and Jean sat and watched patiently until the rush had subsided, just so he could stay a little bit longer.

Mikasa, Armin and the third instructor Eren knew each child’s name; they also went out of their way to learn the parents names too. More than once he was able to talk to Mikasa— the standard questions with obvious answers that were always exchanged between strangers —  and every time left him floating all the way home. 

The parents of the older students were welcoming and in between bragging about their kids and complaining about work, they supplied little snippets of information about the instructors, and Jean struggled really hard not to ask about Mikasa specifically.

This lasted about four months, until suddenly the school burst with activity, getting ready for the tri-annual “Graduation.” Apparently for the kids to show everyone what they learned, and to boost their self esteem, a small ceremony in the local high school gym would be where the kids earned their next belt.

 Jean sat on the bleachers with the rest of the parents, each age group from youngest to oldest being presented their new belts. When Charlie got hers, the first thing she did was wave to him, holding her new yellow belt high in the air, one step closer to being her own heroine.

If he teared up a little well, no one had to know but him.

Then Jean realized the after party in the school’s cafeteria was 10 % Charlie shoving her old white belt at him and sitting still long enough for him to get a picture and 90% him sitting alone on his phone with a lukewarm piece of pizza.

 He was about to get to a new record of 7 on flappy bird when someone cleared their throat in front of him. “Do you mind?”

  _Mikasa._ Jean looked up, startled, and connected the dots as she gestured to the chair in front of him. “Oh- yeah, go ahead it’s fine.”

 “Thank you,” she set down her bottle of water, back to the rest of the room and sighed with visible relief. “It’s much quieter over here, the first time we did this I made the mistake of sitting by the door— everyone always wants to say a quick goodbye but talks for ten minutes anyway.”

Jean grinned at her, internally bottling up his festering crush. But a little of it seeped out, just enough that he felt the urge to impress her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deadpanned as he held up his phone. “My games and I are extremely loud and obnoxious, you might want earplugs for your own safety.”

To his relief she smiled, quickly hiding behind her hand as if she was trying not to laugh. “I don’t think anyone could find you obnoxious.”

_Then where does Charlie get it from I wonder?_ Jean nearly choked on his own tongue anyway, not quite sure if she was joking or not and if he should even bother pushing it.

Still he glanced behind her, took in the fact that even though there were empty seats where she could be alone, she chose him. Floundering a little he tried to scrounge up something witty and only a little desperate to convey that he was single. “You should see me on caffeine, my ex told me that it was worse than being drunk.”

The knuckles of her hand were still brushing her mouth and she just slightly tilted her head and he couldn’t tell if she was still smiling and _why was she so hard to read I screwed up Mayday Mayday._

“I’d like to see that.”

Jean couldn’t help but stare. “You _would_?”

Her smile grew, half hidden behind her hand, but her eyes were amused.

“I’ll even buy the coffee. My friend Mina owns a cafe down the street from the studio.”

Jean’s mind was caught between _is this real?_ and _holy fuck_ when he scrambled to accept, picking his jaw up off the table. “I drink my weight in coffee, I might as well pay instead of cleaning out your wallet." 

“Mikasa!” Eren called from the other side of the room. She twisted around in her chair and Jean looked around her to see people trickling out the door, and Charlie was in the midst of saying goodbye to her friends.

Mikasa held up one finger to her brother, and stood up gracefully, turning back to face Jean. He stood up with her, nearly tripping over the bench of the lunch table.

Mikasa straightened her uniform and paused, pinning Jean with a stern look, which really, should not be hot as it was. “Sunday’s are my day off. Meet me at the studio at three and we can walk there. Don’t be late.”

She started to walk away before turning back hastily and _oh my god she was blushing_. Jean was grinning stupidly as she came back to point a finger at him: “and _I will pay._ Don’t test me Kirschstein. I can choke you with your own arm.”

For some absurd reason, Jean found that entire sentence terrifying and _adorable_. His festering crush blossomed, spreading warmth through his chest until he was high from it. “Wouldn’t dare dream of it.”

He watched her walk away, raven hair and lethal force, until Charlie came to collect him.


End file.
